Love Letters
by a. loquita
Summary: It all begins when O'Neill stumbles upon Carter's diary. But for two people who want to get together and make it work, communication is key. Unfortunately, that's never been one of Jack O'Neill's strong suits. SJ
1. Chapter 1

Love Letters

By a. loquita

Summary: It all begins when O'Neill stumbles upon Carter's diary. But for two people who want to get together and make it work, communication is key. Unfortunately, that's never been one of Jack O'Neill's strong suits. (S/J)

Rating: T

**Part 1**

Jack was bored. He'd already punched the punching bag. He'd already eaten cake in the commissary. He'd already bugged Daniel until he'd gotten himself kicked out of the archeologist's lab. So, up next on his list was Carter.

"Hey, Car–"

Carter's lab, but no one was home. Jack squinted. Where in the world could she be? He'd just made the rounds and not seen her in any of the typical SGC spots. Unless she was in her personal quarters taking a nap? Not typical Samantha Carter behavior but it was possible.

Jack knocked softly. No response. He knocked a little harder, ignoring the voice inside that told him if Carter was actually in there taking a much needed break, he'd be waking her up. When he heard nothing from the other side, Jack cracked the door open a little and peaked inside. No Carter here either. What the heck was this, where's Waldo?

Jack swung the door open, took a step inside and allowed the door to close behind him. It was rare that he'd ever been in here. Hell, it was rare Carter was ever in here. She was much more likely to fall over while working at her lab bench and sleep with her head resting on her laptop. But he had been in here once or twice, usually to wake Carter up when something went wrong that only she could fix.

If the lab was Major Carter, this space had Samantha written all over it. Here, she didn't have any technology except for the digital alarm clock next to the bed. Here, was a fluffy down comforter in a shade of pale yellow and a terry cloth robe carelessly left over a nearby chair. She had some framed pictures displaying family and friends atop the dresser, alongside some candles and girly do-dads.

Jack's eyes settled on something lying open on the bed. A bound, leather book with a pen set down on top of it, just lying where she left them. He took a few steps closer and could see Sam's distinctive small but legible handwriting across the pages. Her diary? Jack's head reeled with the knowledge. Sam kept a diary? He'd never known that about his Carter.

What would she write about? She can't write down details of her missions and then carry it off-base where someone could mistakenly see classified information. Ah, Jack realized suddenly, that was likely the reason her diary was kept here on base, not at her house. Of course, his smart Major would have thought that all through carefully.

Jack's eye caught one word on the page, not intentionally, he would swear under oath if it came to it. He saw his own name, 'Jack,' written neatly and elegantly in Sam's hand. She wrote something about him? And she used his first name? That sent heat through Jack's veins, rushing to parts forbidden to be associated with Carter.

Now he all out abandoned his sense of right and wrong. No way was he going to walk away from this and not read it. He circled the bed, stared down at the journal right side up, and read with interest.

…_terrible mission is over. But I'm left wondering and wishing. Does Jack have any idea what I feel? The last thing he would want me to do is sit him down and have a talk about "feelings." It's a nightmare._

_Besides, the fact is I'm certain all he feels for me is affection. Oh, I've seen the look in his eyes, I know he appreciates women and that includes me from time to time. He cares about me as a person too. I know that, but beyond that it's not much more than normal male, hormone-filled, lust. Isn't it?_

_Even if I take the military out of the equation for a moment and we had no rules standing in our way, I have a hard time believing that anything would change between us. So I would only be making it awkward between us if I told him how I feel. I should keep it to myself for the sake of our working relationship and our friendship._

_But why is it that I keep having these moments? Like the one yesterday, when I came so close to saying something. I wanted to badly, and it nearly killed me to keep my mouth shut. I want to tell him everything and even if he doesn't return it, I still want him to know. What if something happened tomorrow and one of us was killed? He or I would go on alone, never knowing._

_Oh, God, now I'm tearing up. Good Majors don't cry. Especially over their superior officers and what will never be. _

Jack's mouth hung open. He hated cliches and yet he was currently living one. Sam Carter had surprised him so much, that his jaw dropped. Talk about another cliché, this was completely out of left field. He had no idea she had feelings evidently stronger than he previously believed. It was almost so unbelievable to him that it was difficult to grasp. He backed away from the diary, in his astonishment.

Should he do something about this? Say something to her? Sam was right about one thing, Jack absolutely cringed at the thought of having to have a big "talk" all about "feelings." But other things she had wrong, the part about how he felt toward her. Oh, lust was in there, for sure. But it was mixed in with a whole lot of other feelings, powerful ones. Stuff that Jack vowed to himself he'd never tell her about. But now he wondered. Maybe he should? Maybe if he did, things would change and they could… nah.

He couldn't do that to her. Even if Sam did share deeper feelings toward him, there was no way he was going to allow beautiful, brilliant, full-of-potential Samantha Carter to end up with dark, brooding, destroy-everything-that's-good-for-him Jack O'Neill. She deserved better. In fact, of all the people he knew, Carter deserved the most happiness in the world.

He was standing next to the chair, absently fingering her terry cloth robe when the door swung open.

"Colonel?" Sam was obviously surprised to see him here. Her eyes glanced down at the journal and then back up at him.

Jack thanked whatever God was up there that he'd backed up quite a bit. So it wasn't immediately clear that he'd been standing there reading her diary just a second before.

"What are you–?" she started to ask but Jack cut her off.

"Where were you?"

"Ladies room," Sam pointed off vaguely.

Ah. Right. Jack suddenly remembered the tears part at the end. She must have needed a tissue. It squeezed his heart that she had been crying over him.

Sam narrowed her eyes, as if she were trying to figure him out. It was the same look that she got when she was poking and prodding an alien device. Jack's mind jumped to, _I thought I told you, no pushing buttons, Carter._

Sam asked carefully, "Did you need me for something?"

"I was looking for you. Couldn't find you."

"Ladies room," she repeated. The Colonel was acting so weird. Sam wondered if he was capable of reading someone else's diary? He was usually such an honorable person. He always respected his teammates. He would never… But he was acting so very weird.

"So…" Sam tried to lead him. It wasn't working. "What did you need me for…?"

"Oh. That." Jack couldn't look at her. She was too close, and it was all too much information. Was it hot in here? "I can't remember now. Must not have been important." Get out, get out, get out… Jack scuttled across the room, giving her a wide berth, and escaped out the door.

The wrinkle between Sam's brows deepened as she tried to imagine what that was all about. It was possible that he could have read her thoughts written in her journal, perhaps he now knew about her feelings. On some level, she was sort of glad if that were the case. At least he knew, like she'd wished that he did, but it saved her actually having to say the words out loud to his face.

Plus, the way Jack just reacted, it was clear that he didn't share her feelings. What was she hoping for? Some kind of back-up-against-the-wall hot make out session from him?

It was all for the best. Jack knew and yet the two of them could play a game of pretend that he'd never read it, and that he doesn't know.

TBC…


	2. Chapter 2

**Part 2**

Two days later, Jack's head was still trying to handle the fact that Sam had some sort of feelings for him, real feelings. Not just a passing fancy it seemed. It was worse than having an ancient database uploaded in his brain. Speaking ancient was far easier than speaking the language of women.

There was still part of him that wondered if he should say something to her. Of course, that would mean he'd have to admit that he'd read her diary. But she'd probably forgive him for that. She'd forgiven far worse things that he'd done.

Jack simply hated the fact that he'd made Carter cry. That knowledge was making him die on the inside, slowly and painfully. She deserved happiness, not tears. Would it be better for her if she knew that he cared? That her feelings weren't unrequited?

Jack suddenly had a thought. What if he turned the tables on her? He sat down at his desk, pulled out a sheet of paper, and began writing.

Sam wandered down the halls of the SGC while reading a report. Because she wasn't looking up, she nearly plowed right into Jack O'Neill.

"Carter?!" He put his hands on her shoulders to stop her. "How many times have I told you to look where you're going?"

The heat from his hands radiated through the cotton of her T-shirt and warmed her skin. "Yeah," Sam found her voice, "but this is a fascinating report on–"

Jack cut her off, "Not only do I sense one of your famous lectures coming on… I've got to actually be somewhere right now."

"Of course, sorry, Sir." Sam smiled ever so slightly.

"But," Jack suddenly realized his hands were still on her. He took them away as if they had been burned. "Ahh. I'll be back in a few and I needed to talk to you about something else. Could you wait in my office for me?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Thanks," he said, while backing away and heading down the hall. "I'll even let you finish your soliloquy."

"Soliloquy?" Sam mumbled under her breath as she entered his office, shaking her head. The man was a conundrum wrapped in a metaphor and tied off with silly string.

She was going to sit down but then decided against it. Alone in his office was a perfect time to get a look at his pictures and other things in here. She didn't have to hide her interest with only passing glances. As Sam rounded the desk, she saw his drawer open a few inches, and there was a piece of paper peeking out. Her name was at the top of it.

Oh, she really shouldn't snoop. No, not only was it wrong in general principle but this was her commanding officer's private office. She really, really shouldn't be snooping here.

But it had her name on it and it wasn't 'Carter' or "Major' it said 'Sam.' She was dying to know what would cause him to use her first name, which he so rarely did in her presence.

She nudged the drawer open a little further. Then she glanced down again, realizing it was a letter to her.

_Sam,_

_Do you have any idea how many times I've sat down and written this letter, only to put it through the shredder once I'd finished it? There are a thousand reasons why I'll never give it to you. Military is a big one, but maybe not as big of a reason as you might think._

_I'm scared to tell you all the things I feel for you in my heart, Sam. I'm scared because I'm afraid it will change things. It'll mean the demise of SG-1, but it'll change other things too. Like the way we are. Is that fair to you? Is it right?_

_I don't know to what degree you care for me, but even if it were a lot, I wouldn't want you near me. I'm bad news, Sam. I hurt people. I mess up. You deserve so much happiness in life and I'm not the guy that's going to bring it to you. But sometimes when I'm all alone at night, I wish I had you there next to me. Just so that it didn't seem so cold and empty in my house, in my life. You make me feel so many terrific things inside- happy, cared for, respected. I'm grateful for you. I love you._

_But I'm going to hold that thought and never speak it out loud. For you, for your career, for your happiness, for the chance to be able to walk beside you when we're off world on a mission. I am content with having that much of you, and no more._

_This letter was going to go in the shredder with all the others. But then I decided I'd tuck it away in my desk somewhere so that if one day I don't come back from a mission, you'll find this while SG-1 is packing up my things. Then you'll know, Sam. You'll know how much I have loved you in my life._

_Jack_

"That bastard," was the first thing that came to Sam's mind and she couldn't help but to say it aloud. She put the letter back and slammed the drawer shut. He was being all high and mighty. Mr. Martyr. Making decisions for her. Not being honest. Not allowing her to have any say in the matter at all. Rat bastard.

Jack watched the monitor in the security office. Carter was slamming stuff, kicking stuff, and stomping around. He didn't know what to except from her after reading the strategically placed letter. But THAT was surely not the response he expected. Damn, he'd pissed her off and he wasn't even sure why.

The SF on duty turned to Colonel O'Neill. "Sir? Want me to send a few of my people down there?"

"Ah, no. It's fine. I'll handle it." Jack glumly left the office and headed toward his own. All the while, not sure how he could face the five foot nine, trained in hand-to-hand combat, and fully ticked off woman waiting for him there.

Sam crossed her arms at her chest and fumed. When he gets back I'm going to give him a piece of my mind… Then her brain re-engaged. Wait a minute, she couldn't do that. For a whole bunch of reasons, like for one, that would mean she'd read his letter, also she'd snooped in his office, and not to mention the fact that giving the Colonel a piece of her mind wasinsubordination with a capital 'I.'

Jack stepped in the office and closed the door behind him, ready to take on the full force of her fury. Sam just stood there, an air of anger surrounded her but she didn't say a word.

"Carter?"

"Sir?"

Jack narrowed his eyes at her.

"Sir, you asked me to wait here. You said there was something you needed to talk to me about?" Her tone was flat and cold. Damn it, Jack admonished himself. This was not any better than making her cry.

"Yeah, that– ah…" Jack fiddled with the sleeve of his jacket. "I was– permission to stop by this evening?"

"Sir?" She seemed totally thrown by this.

"Look, I've got something I needed to talk to you about. But perhaps it is a conversation better held off base."

"Oh," Sam seemed to shed some of the anger, but her voice was still a little flat. "OK."

Confusion, Jack guessed, he'd totally confused her. Well, that was at least better than anger. Definitely better than crying.

"Permission granted?" Jack asked, wondering why the he felt the necessity to stand on ceremony in this moment.

"Yes, Sir."

"1900? I'll bring a pizza?"

"Sure."

"Alrighty then. Dismissed." He waved her off and watched her retreat. Mm, nice view…

Well, it wasn't_ just_ lust, but that didn't mean lack of lust either.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part 3**

Samantha Carter stood before the mirror in her bedroom wearing lacy panties, matching bra, and dismissed the third choice of outfit. He was coming over to tell her, right?

I mean, Sam debated in her head, what other kind of conversation should they _not_ have on base? It had to be the "I have inappropriate feelings for my second in command" conversation. The one that Sam still hadn't decided on how she was going to respond. Especially now that she knew he loved her. That changed everything.

Sam wanted him. Dear lord– she was picking out her sexy underwear and most come hither outfit for him– did she want him. But of course there were a million things to consider. Things they should talk about first, like what they were going to do about work. One of them transfer? Retire? Besides that there was Jack's "not good enough" issues to deal with.

She pulled a tank top over her head and put on some tight jeans. Yeah, this would work. Casual enough to be something one would be wearing around the house. Yet, the deep V of the tank showed off the swell of her breasts– gotcha Jack.

Sam put on some foundation and lipstick but no other make-up. They had to have a serious talk first. Then maybe it would lead to something.

The doorbell rang and she answered it. O'Neill held out a pizza box. He was wearing extremely relaxed, worn jeans and a black sweater that hugged him. Sam gulped. Talk first, she reminded herself, then took the offered pizza box and stepped aside.

They ate in silence. The tension in the room was so high, they were drowning in it. Sam shifted uncomfortably. Why won't he just say something already? Oh, right, because this was Jack O'Neill, man of few words.

But darn it, she didn't want to have to be the one. It wasn't fair really. He'd probably just tune her out, like he did during all her explanations at work. Granted she tended to be long-winded. But was it so hard for him to listen to her voice? Sam loved his voice, she could spend hours listening to him. If only he'd speak up and say something already.

"Sir–"

"Sam–"

They both spoke at the same time. There was an awkward moment between them where they both waited for the other.

"No, you go ahead," Sam said.

"You, I insist," he countered.

Sam closed her eyes briefly. Why was this so hard? Where to even begin? She stood up, pacing back and forth. When she glanced at him, his brow was winkled in confusion.

"Carter? You OK?"

Sam stopped pacing. He'd probably never seen her like this before. It was probably scaring him. Well, good, because she was scared to death. What if they ended up arguing about who should transfer or retire? What if no matter what she said, he refused to believe that they should be together? What if it all ended badly and she lived the rest of her life alone and hurting?

She stepped over to him, took his cheeks in her hands and kissed him. Jack yanked her into his lap, tipped her back and deepened the kiss. Their tongues dueled, their hands explored, and they lost all ability to think.

Before Sam knew it, they were in her bed, naked, laying in post-sex bliss. Oops, they were supposed to have talked first. His hand was caressing down her back and all Sam wanted to do was lay here for the rest of her life, not talking.

He spoke finally, "We're gonna have to talk."

"Yeah," Sam agreed, but did it have to be now? Could they go round two and then talk later?

He asked, "Can we not talk right now?"

"Yeah," Sam smiled a little. But at least for now, she wanted him to know that this wasn't about a sudden, one-night stand, mistake. "I read the letter you have hidden in your desk."

"I know."

She raised her head off of his chest and pinned him with her eyes. "How?"

"I left it there for you on purpose and I watched the security feed."

Sam blinked half a dozen times at him. "Why?" And why was she reduced to one-word sentences now? Maybe not too surprising, it was some pretty amazing sex she just had.

"Because I'm crap at words, Sam. I can't say that stuff out loud and make it come out right. And even my lame attempt at writing it didn't work 'cuz you got pissed after reading it. I have no idea why you even want me here in this bed with you. You were ready to shoot me this afternoon."

"I might very well right now." Sam narrowed her eyes at him, gathering her strength but Jack interrupted before she could say more.

"Be kinda difficult to have more mind-blowing sex. But if that's which one you prefer…"

"Sir–"

He grimaced, and that's when she halted whatever it was she was about to say. Oh, yeah, there was that. She was a good little Major. Following the rules, right up to calling a superior officer "Sir" even when naked in bed with him.

She sighed, "We're going to have to talk."

"Yep. But I thought we agreed on later." Jack guided her head back down to use his chest as a pillow.

Sam agreed, "Later."

'When did later become never?' Sam wondered six weeks later as she navigated the corridors of the SGC. Jack had come under cover of darkness and slept in her bed many times since that exchange. Not once did they have a meaningful conversation. Other than the "oh, yea, right there" stuff. Do moans even count?

Sam thought she was somewhat experienced, but this was way out of her league. They weren't just good together, they were amazing together. No way was she tossing him out of her bed, ever. No matter how pissed she might be. No matter how wrong it was. Her body was humming just thinking about last night.

But that was exactly the heart of the problem, wasn't it? If this were just sex, meaningless, mindless, lust than this would be a whole lot easier. Either they'd carry on an affair knowing that was all it was, eventually running its course. Or they'd break it off now, forget it ever happened, and continue to work together professionally without a problem.

Problem was, it wasn't meaningless sex. It was sex with a whole hell of a lot of meaning behind it. Words that thus far were unspoken. Jack seemed to want to keep it that way. Sam didn't understand it and she wasn't sure she liked it. But, not knowing what she did want meant that she'd been playing along for now.

Then there was the Air Force, and the guilt and fears that came along with it. That had to be dealt with. The longer they waited, the bigger the repercussions were. They needed to talk, and soon.

Maybe she should do this the way it had all started? Sam sat down at her lab bench and pushed the computer aside. This was too special for emotionless, cold, detached technology. This deserved writing a letter longhand just as Jack had written to her.

_Jack,_

_I'm willing to bet you believe we are complete opposites. But I don't think we're all that different. I think we are both surprised by this sudden turn of events in our lives. We're frightened to talk about it because we know some big decisions need to be made. It is so much easier to avoid it than to deal with it. It's always been that way with us. But if we don't talk, we will surely destroy this, whatever it is that we have. Please, talk to me, Jack. Tell me what you think, what you need, what you need to hear. I don't want to see us destroyed. I want to find a way for things to work out for us. Please talk to me soon._

_Sam_

Sam sealed it, stamp and addressed it to his home, and walked down the hall to put it in US mail slot. A few days from now when he came home from work, Sam imagined him grabbing a beer and reading her letter. Then the ball would be in his court, no matter how much he hated clichés, it was his.

Three days later, flowers were delivered to the base, to Sam's lab. Forget-me-nots to be precise, and the card only said:

_Soon._


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4**

Teal'c appeared at O'Neill's side to take over watch. No words were exchanged; they didn't need to be after all these years working side-by-side. Not that Teal'c was ever much of a conversationalist. Of course, Jack wasn't either, but these days that was bothering him. He knew he had to talk to Sam. But for some reason he kept avoiding it.

Being off world with her meant that he could use work as justification for putting off the inevitable conversation a few more days. But once they got back home, he'd have to face up to it. Whatever it was. Jack scrubbed his hand over his face as entered the tent he was sharing with Carter.

"Hey," she said softly.

He looked down to see her tucked in her sleeping bag but eyes wide open. "You're supposed to be asleep, Carter."

"Couldn't sleep."

"It's not freezing, no sand, and no Goa'uld nearby." He listed off the things that usually disturbed her sleep on a mission then gave her a questioning rise of the brow.

Carter lowered her eyes. "Guess I've been getting used to not having to sleep alone."

"Ah," he said casually lowering himself next to her. "We can solve that." He moved to take her into his arms but Sam stiffened.

"Sir," it was a warning, reminder, question all rolled into one word.

"What?" Jack asked impatiently.

"We're off world," she said, hoping that was enough.

"So?"

Apparently not enough. "Sir, it's bad enough at home but here…"

"Bad enough?" he repeated, trying to prevent the hurt from showing in his tone.

Jack sighed. They really did need to have that talk he'd been putting off. She was feeling guilty and weird, awkward conversations like this one were only going to make things worse between them.

"Sam, wha'd'ya think I'm gonna do here?" She glanced at him and then looked away. He closed his eyes in frustration. "What if it were an ice planet? We wouldn't even be having this conversation right now."

"It's not an ice planet and that's exactly the point. You and I shouldn't be looking for excuses."

This was becoming a disaster fast and Jack began to panic. He didn't want to have this conversation, the one he was so convinced would led to him losing Sam forever. He certainly didn't want to have it off world. Preferably, somewhere that had liquor stores so that after he screwed this up and she broke his heart he could sink into oblivion.

Sam sat up. She placed a hand to his cheek and met his eyes. "I need you to talk to me and you won't. I don't know how to take that. What does that mean?"

Jack fought the internal battle of emotions. "I'm crap at it, Sam."

"So, why even bother trying?"

"Sam." He scrubbed his hand over his eyes. It was late, he was tried, and despite what he said earlier, this world– P7X something something– was pretty chilly at night.

Jack didn't say anything else. Only her name, and somehow it was enough for Sam to know exactly what he wanted to say– he was cold, tired, they were on a mission and should stay focused. He was frustrated.

For a brief moment, Sam wondered if she understood enough of Jack's silent communication that the spoken kind wasn't as important for them as other couples. But then she dismissed the thought. There were way too many unanswered questions, a lot of decisions that had to be made and wouldn't be unless they talked about it.

She knew that Jack didn't want to, but his refusal was eventually going to drive a wedge between them. It would destroy them before they had even barely gotten started. She was hurt that he was so willing to doom their relationship, hurt that he wouldn't do whatever it took to make it work. She had put her heart, not to mention her career, on the line for him. But instead of being worthy of that trust, he was shutting her out.

"Jack, no matter what you say, no matter what you want or don't want, the decisions we make… none of it will make me walk away from you. But your silence, your unwillingness to let me in, that will." She lay down and rolled away, putting her back to him.

Panic flooded him for a moment. He didn't want to loose her and he did want to do whatever it took. But it was so against his nature, he didn't even know where to start. He lay down behind her and crept a hand across her, settling in like a scared puppy unsure if he would be accepted. When she didn't bat his hand away, Jack relaxed and pulled his sleeping bag over his body and closed his eyes.

Before he drifted off he whispered into her ear, "I promise, I will find a way. I won't allow myself mess this up."


	5. Chapter 5

**Part 5**

"Mom," said 16-year-old Glenys Carter O'Neill.

"Yeah?" answered Sam, as she looked up at her daughter.

Sam was sitting on the floor in front of the closet they were cleaning out. It was Sam's 'Spring Cleaning Sunday.' An annual tradition that sent Jack high-tailing it to Daniel's to get out of having to do any work.

But Glenys was helping out and had come across a box. She opened the lid and found papers bundled together. "What are these?" she asked, curiously.

"Oh, those," Sam smiled wide. "I haven't seen those in years. Those definitely do _not _go in the trash pile."

"But what are they?"

"Love letters your Dad once wrote to me."

"Really?" Glenys looked like she was sure her mom was pulling a fast one on her. "Dad wrote you letters?!?"

"For a time," Sam shrugged. "Sometimes I'd write him back. It was what we did when we were having trouble communicating. Eventually, we got better at talking."

"Wait, but Dad actually wrote you letters? Like the romantic kind with sappy stuff in them?"

"Sometimes," Sam said with a smile. "Which is why you're not reading them." She snatched them away.

"Hey, come on. Please?"

"Nope."

"Why?" Glenys asked.

Sam raised her brows. "I think there may be some stuff in there that you don't want to read."

"Like what?"

Sam just stared at her daughter. It suddenly dawned on Glenys. "Ah, gross, Mom," she whined.

Glenys did not even want to consider the possibility of her parents having sex more than the one time it took to make her. Though, seeing how affectionate they always were to one another made it certainly possible. The last thing she needed was actual evidence.

Glenys grumbled, "I'm gonna need therapy now."

Sam laughed. "Tell you what, I'll look through them tonight and find a few that you can read."

Later that night, alone in their room, Sam was lying across the bed reading. Jack entered after having turned off all the lights in the house and firmly told Glenys to shut off the music and go to bed. She had school in the morning.

"What's that?" asked Jack, noticing her with papers.

"Glenys and I came across some of the letters you used to write me."

"You kept them?" he asked, surprised.

"Of course."

"If I'd known they were for all of posterity I'm pretty sure I would have put a little more time and effort into them."

Sam said, "You were sweet." Jack gave her a look and she giggled. "What? Listen to this one…"

"Oh, God, Sam don't," he whined, exactly in the tone his daughter had used earlier in the day.

_Sam,_

_If I tell you that sometimes I want to protect you, you'll kick my ass from here to Fond du Lac. Of course I know that you can take care of yourself. You don't need me. You don't need anyone, you're smart and a good solider and everything that translates to you not needing me. But I still have this overwhelming desire to protect you. It's one of a thousand things that I'm afraid to tell you because it'll mess us up. You'll think I'm a jerk or I'm crazy. I want to treat you as a man treats a woman he cherishes. But we've been comrades in war for so long, I'm afraid you'll never see me that way, never allow that to happen._

_If you know all the things that I think about you, it will probably cause me to loose you forever. I don't want to loose you, Carter. I'll do anything, anything at all to keep you in my life and I mean not just at work. I want more than that. You keep asking me to tell you what I want and the answer is "more." But the truth is I can't even tell you what "more" is. I don't even care. It can be an affair, or a wedding, it can be a secret or it can be me retiring. It doesn't matter to me. Whatever it is that you want, that is what I want for you. I'll be happy with anything because it's more than I ever thought possible. I'm afraid that telling you any of this means I'll get a whole lot less, not more. I love you, Sam. No matter what stupid things I say or do, please know that I love you._

_Jack_

Sam looked up at him. "That was beautiful. It still gets me."

Jack looked at her like she was an alien species he didn't understand. "OK."

She tugged on his hand until he joined her in bed. She wrapped her arms around his neck and placed a kiss on his cheek. "I do need you."

"I know that now."

"And what else have you learned?" She was teasing him a little. But hearing his own words again after all this years, Jack also realized that he had learned a lot along the way. She had taught him well.

"That we protect each other," he said. "That whatever I say, even if it's stupid, it's better than us bottling stuff up inside until it makes us both nuts. That you know I love you no matter what, and you love me for God know what reason, but I'm thankful for it."

Sam grinned at him, "Anything else?"

"Talking beats writing a letter, because unless there is a tape recorder in the room there isn't a permanent record of you being sappy." Sam fought a smile.

Jack kissed her and pulled her closer to his body. "And I learned that you and I are great together. I'm glad we took the chance. Even if we did it unconventionally, we finally opened up to each other. I'm glad."

"Me too."

The End 


End file.
